Strolling past the little girls’ section at Target, I can’t help but feel a lump in my throat. Each tiny dress and cute pair of shoes hanging there brings back memories of earlier days: first, with you tucked in the cart, happily playing with whatever caught your chubby little hands, and later, as you dove into the world of reading, writing, and math in kindergarten.
I remember those days well—selecting the most adorable outfits in vibrant colors and adding just the right amount of sparkle, because you adored all things shiny. Your closet overflowed with miniature shoes—my own footwear obsession shrunk down to fit your little feet, leading your dad to joke about where all our money was disappearing.
I’d sit on your small quilted bed, excitedly unveiling the latest fashion finds. Your face would light up, and you’d wrap your tiny arms around me, whispering, “I love them all, Mom.”
But over the past couple of years, I’ve noticed a shift. The unfiltered excitement that once filled your eyes has faded. Sure, you still thank me and neatly put away the clothes, but it’s clear you’re just being polite. Before long, I’d pull out those same outfits—tags still on—and realize that things were changing. I tried to ignore it while packing up clothes for donation or to pass on to friends with younger daughters.
Now, just a month away from being a teenager, our shopping trips have evolved. While we still enjoy Target, we’ve ventured into trendier stores. During a recent outing, I picked out a few items to show you, only to find you doing the same. It hit me—the denial was gone. I was officially done choosing your clothes.
You’re discovering your own style. Your love for sparkly sandals has transitioned to chunky heeled boots that are the same size as mine, and floral headbands have been replaced by Doctor Who hats. Those colorful dresses and floral skirts are now swapped for funky rompers and camo shorts with pom-pom trim.
In that moment, I fully grasp the transformation happening before my eyes. I’ve fought against the inevitable, but with a bittersweet acceptance, I realize I can’t hold on to the past.
I miss my cherub-faced little girl with pigtails sticking out, draped in fake pearls and spinning joyfully in her sequined dresses. Yet, there’s an undeniable thrill in witnessing you grow into a confident young woman with a bold, fun style. You embrace the world with compassion and excitement, relishing in the gifts of your vibrant youth.
This journey of letting go has begun, and I’m embracing the opportunity to get to know the newer version of you. Honestly, I’m pretty fond of your style!
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Summary: This article reflects on a mother’s experience as her daughter transitions from a young girl who loved her outfits to a teenager with her own unique style. The bittersweet realization of letting go and embracing change is a journey, filled with memories and excitement for the future.